


Famous Last Words

by SaskiaK



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Ghosts, Horror, Supernatural - Freeform, Unseen threat
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-26
Updated: 2017-05-10
Packaged: 2018-10-24 05:29:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 21,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10735098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaskiaK/pseuds/SaskiaK
Summary: The Paramour Mansion is not for the faint-hearted. Mikey recalls some of events that almost tore him apart - Chapter 11 posted





	1. Just run, run away. But where did you run to? - Mikey sets the scene...

I’d like to say that it wasn’t about me, but it is, every last word. Some of it is directed at me, some is taken from conversations and observations; things I wanted kept private. Nothing’s private for us, not really. And I understand that to a certain extent, but there are some things, some things I’d rather pretend had never happened, never mind draw attention to them. The therapist said I had to confront them and I didn’t want to. I resisted at every turn. I just wanted to brush it under the carpet and pretend it never happened. Gerard had other ideas. He’s my big brother and yes, I know he was just looking out for me, forcing me to face things I couldn’t, or wouldn’t. Making me do what the therapist said I had to do. I know why he did it, I do and I appreciate it. He pulled me through one of the biggest nightmares of my life, but there’s still a part of me that wishes he hadn’t. Like it or not. Dealt with, whatever that means, or not, it’ll always be there. Lurking in the shadows waiting to crush me again.

What am I talking about? The Paramour Mansion and a song on The Black Parade. The final one, well, kind of. Famous Last Words. Even the title is a constant but subtle reminder to me of what happened. In public, I said that the song had become triumphant at my return to the band, but that was just to stop people asking me about it. If I didn’t seem concerned, hopefully neither would they. On top of that, in interviews, the guys fielded a lot of the questions that were really aimed at me. They protected me, like they always do, like I’d do for them. 

I knew. As soon as we arrived, I knew I didn’t like it. Or rather, it didn’t like me. I didn’t say anything. I just didn’t want to be the only one to sound negative. There was a feeling, a sensation that just lived in the walls. It’s so hard to describe but have you ever just known that something was very, very wrong? That you shouldn’t be somewhere and that it’s not all in your mind? That the place itself is telling you, screaming at you to get out? Well I ignored it, like I’m sure most people would. We would live and record there for several months and it was almost as long in the planning. We were committed. Nothing I could say would change that and all it would achieve would be to bring everyone else down. I held it all in, like I do everything else. But this time… this time everything would eventually spill out. I was like a time bomb and the moment we stepped through the door, I could almost hear the ticking.

It wasn’t immediate. We had been there several weeks before things started to go… I nearly said ‘wrong’, but that’s not quite right. I suppose the nearest I can get to it is to say things were getting odd. The oppressive nature of the house seemed to seep into me and take my mind off to places unknown. I tried to block it out with anti-depressants and booze. It was a combination that I knew worked, well, when I say worked, what I really mean is that it reduced everything to a blur. I didn’t have to cope because I wasn’t aware there was anything to cope with. It was stupid and dangerous. Worse still, to my mind at any rate, the last thing I wanted was for Gerard to see me in a drunken stupor every day. So, I tried to hold back, but when I did, they got in and I did, saw and heard things I’d really rather forget.

The first I was really aware of the problems I would face was when I walked down to breakfast that morning. The other guys where huddled around the table talking quietly in hushed and urgent whispers. As soon as I appeared in the open doorway, all talk stopped and they stared at me. Eight eyes boring into me with mixed expressions: curiosity, concern and expectant.

“What?” I asked. 

I didn’t move from that spot until they finally spoke; of course it was Gerard.

“How are you, Mikes?” he said waving me over to join them.  
“I’m not dumb, I know you were talking about me,” I grumbled, irritated by their assumption that I wouldn’t realise. 

I’d been getting irritable a lot lately, we all had. The others thought it was the problems we were having with the album, but it wasn’t, it was the house and I seemed to be the only one that realised it.

“Yeah, Mikey,” Ray nodded. “We were, I was telling them about last night. We’re just worried, that’s all.”

I slid into my seat and stared at them for a few moments. It was still early and I hadn’t been sleeping well, I just wanted some coffee. I was definitely not in the mood for games.

“What about last night?” I asked as I pulled the pot off the stand and poured myself a large mug of steaming black coffee.  
“I heard a noise just after three-thirty. You were walking around the house…”

My head snapped up at Ray’s words. Somehow deep inside I knew there was more, but I was already in denial.

“You were crying.”

My head went back down to my mug. 

“Ray, I think you need to…”

I exhaled noisily as I stood up quickly and stepped away from the table, my chair clattering back onto the kitchen floor.

“Mikes!” Ray called after me as I stormed from the room. “I’m sorry, I didn’t know you wanted to keep it secret.”  
“Grow up, Ray!” I shouted as I turned back to face them. “It didn’t happen, okay? It didn’t happen!”

And I was gone. I knew it was just not like me to act like that and I knew as soon as I was out the door that they were saying the same thing. I needed space and I knew I wasn’t going to get it. This house, this huge house had me trapped. I was smothered by my brother and friends and at the same time I was very alone. I couldn’t explain it. It was like my brain was being assaulted by so much stimuli and I had no idea how to deal with it. No idea what it was doing to me.


	2. Is it hard understanding?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More arguments - but why?

I made my way to what I suppose would once have been called the study or library. Two of the walls seemed to be entirely made up of floor to ceiling bookcases, stacked full of what appeared to be ancient books, many of which looked as though they would crumble to dust if you even looked at them too long. Each dusty old volume bound with what was once stiff dark leather. Some were black or maybe blue, some brown, others burgundy. The spines varied a little too; apart from the neatly embossed titles, some were very plain, many had three or four ridges running across them at evenly spaced intervals. Quite a few of the books were embossed with gold or silver leaf, many of which were beginning to fade and peel. It was sad to see the neglect that had caused the once impressive collection to fall into disrepair. I doubted that anyone had taken a single book from the shelf in decades and that they were considered merely ornamental now.

Opposite the door was a huge arched window taking up almost the entire wall. Sectioned into two feet square panes separated by lead strips, the window very much the focal point of the room; a period piece that still looked as striking as it had when it was built. If it weren’t for the heavy drapes covering over half of it, the giant arch of glass would have let in a flood of natural light. As it was, the small exposed area let in what light it could; the individual leaded panes casting shadows at angles across the floor as the sun rose.

The remaining wall held an imposing but unfussy fireplace. It was set flush with the wall, with no mantel and made of a white stone that looked as if it had always been that way and had never needed cleaning. A large painting hung over the disused fire depicting the house and gardens as they had been in the late nineteen-twenties, only a few years after it was first built. The remarkable detail in it had held my attention on a number of occasions. Lately, it felt to me as if it was the only thing that had my attention for more than a few minutes. I loved that room and spent a great deal of my free time there. In there, I can’t explain it, I felt safe, secure. I wouldn’t say happy, but it was the closest I’d been in a long time.

That morning, like so many others, I was full of contradictions. I knew they’d follow me and, if I’m honest, part of me would have been unhappy if they hadn’t, but when I heard the door opening, I sighed audibly and deeply. 

I have to be honest; I thought it was odd for a library, even a study, but the room housed a large leather couch near the centre of the room. From it, I could look out of the window, stare at the painting and watch the door. But right now, I was sitting with my back against the high arms, a small cushion tucked under the small of my back for support. My legs were drawn up so that my knees almost touched my chest, my arms folded defensively across me.

I was thankful that they were still worried enough to be sympathetic with me; I really don’t think I could have stood an argument at that moment. It sounds stupid, but I hadn’t slept well, I was sure of it; even though I hadn’t woken, my dreams had been fitful and disturbing. But, if nothing else, there was one thing I was certain of – I had no recollection of walking around the house in the early hours, crying or otherwise. I certainly had no memory of seeing Ray. In my mind, I was adamant that I was right; Ray had imagined it, dreamt it, whatever. All the while I tried hard to shut out the nagging doubt that tried to correct me.

“Mikey?” Gerard began. 

I want to say his tone was kind and reassuring, but I’d only be lying to myself. He was uncertain and, not for the first time, I felt like he was treading on eggshells.

“Yeah?” I replied unhelpfully. I didn’t plan that; I just didn’t know what to say.  
“We need to talk,” he replied awkwardly.  
“What about?” That time it was intentional.  
“Come on, Mikes, don’t make this hard. You were walking around in the early hours crying. Would you prefer it if we ignored you?”  
“I don’t remember. I was probably sleep-walking. It’s not like I can help it,” I replied still staring at my knees as if the answer to the eternal question of life was written across them.

I heard Gerard take a deep breath. He knew there was nothing he could say; that whatever had actually happened was no more or less plausible that my reply. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him glance at Ray who merely shrugged.

“Okay, Mikes,” Gerard conceded. “You want to get some breakfast? Coffee?”

A faint smile curled the corners of my mouth. It was as if Gerard had uttered a magic word and all my troubles were at an end. I pushed myself from the couch and followed him silently back to the kitchen without even a backward glance. Behind me, I strained to hear Ray’s voice.

“He wasn’t sleep-walking, it was more than that. It was really creepy. When I…”

And then I was out of range, or he got quieter; I don’t know which. But I could forget all that. It was mostly irrelevant and my coffee was still hot enough to drink. Ray and Frank joined us within moments and for a while, it seemed as if peace had been restored. But I knew, it was only a matter of time before there would be another problem; something else for them to pick at me over.

The rest of the day was uneventful, unless you count the ever present sniping in rehearsal, but I’d almost grown to expect that by that point. It started innocently enough, well apparently innocent anyway. But it was always like this. A simple comment, wait for me to bite then move in for the kill. I was wise to them now. Could I see it coming? I could set my watch by it! We took a couple of hours break to eat and reset our thoughts. I needed it more than I realised. And I made a decision; I wasn't going to take any more from them.

It was almost ten o’clock by the time we forced ourselves back into the studio. We had been working on what would become The Sharpest Lives but it was a long way off completion. That’s the thing I hear the most actually when fans who are musicians in a band talk to me. They say things like ‘We did a new song last night but it doesn’t sound anything like as good as yours’. Now, they put this down to lack of talent or that we’re musical gods or something. The mistake they make is that they assume the songs emerge fully formed, easily, painlessly. This is, of course, nothing like how it really happens, well, not most of the time anyway and this day it was tending more towards painful.

Gerard flicked the switch on the desk to replay our last take; we listened and frowned. It just wasn’t good enough, not by a long way. But now, our unenviable task was to work out why. I had a feeling that somehow it would be my fault.

“Okay,” Gerard began with a sigh that suggested the process had stepped up from what had felt like a chore to the status of an ordeal. “Anyone got any ideas?”

All eyes fell on Ray. Whether he liked it or not, he was very often the ideas man. Don’t get me wrong, we all contribute to the songs and it’s very much a mixture of ideas from all of us. But, when we’re stuck, we all look at Ray. As usual, it was the right thing to do. Maybe he had an idea ready, maybe it’s the pressure or the flattery of us turning to him, but he had something in mind.

“Well…” he began. “I think what we’re doing at the start is too much. I think the vocals need to stand out more. Mikey, if you…”

He didn’t get any further. I knew it would be my fault. I was already disconnecting my bass from the amp and swinging the heavy guitar from my shoulders.

“Where are you going?” Ray asked, mystified by my actions.  
“I just can’t listen to this any more,” I replied, my voice a mixture of indignation and anger.  
“What’s wrong now?” Frank snapped irritably as he too lifted the guitar strap across his shoulders and almost slammed the guitar down onto its stand.

It should, if I’d been thinking straight, have occurred to me right then and there. We weren’t behaving normally and even though I could see it, and I remember seeing it, I couldn’t react to the fact that something was tearing us apart – individually and as a band. With hindsight, I know exactly what it was, but at this stage, we were unaware.

“It’s always my fault!” I yelled bitterly, staring at Ray as if I might just kill him.  
“What?” Ray seemed confused by my accusation and that just inflamed me more. That is, until he continued. “I was going to say that we should all strip away our parts at the opening of the song, leaving only the bass accompanying the vocals.”

I stared at him, blankly, for what felt like an eternity, but was probably only a few seconds. He looked back at me; he still seemed puzzled by my reaction but his temper held.

“You’re not affected,” I said quietly. 

Even I was unsure what I meant, but Ray nodded as if suddenly he understood the answer to all life’s mysteries.

“You’re right,” he nodded. “Ever since we came here, we’ve slowly been getting irritable, bored and miserable and we’ve lost interest in just about everything.”  
“Except you?” Gerard asked the guitarist, stepping forward to lay a comforting hand on his brother’s shoulder.  
“I always knew you were a Vulcan,” Frank replied sarcastically.

It was meant as a joke and Ray knew that, but even so, the comment had emerged with a dry, serious edge to it. Certainly something was affecting them, but what? How? And most of all, why?


	3. I think they never liked you anyway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reality becomes nightmares or nightmares become reality?

We took a break, but it wasn’t enough. There was always something in my peripheral vision. Or perhaps I should say, someone? I was never sure – it was frustrating. 

“What’s wrong, Mikey?” Ray asked kindly, reassuringly.

I wanted to answer; I could have answered but I wanted to be comfortable and there really was only one place.

“Can we go back to the library?” I asked. 

I think, looking back, I almost pleaded. That’s how I remembered it and the look on their faces suggested nothing less.

“You feel comfortable there?”

Ray asked the question, but the way he phrased it was almost like a statement. I just nodded and hoped they didn’t mind too much.

Everyone downed their instruments in silence and we headed to the library and I took my place on the far left seat of the couch. I felt comfortable, I felt safe, but I also felt foolish. I’m a grown man. I have a house. I’m engaged. I shouldn’t have to feel safe any more! But, and here’s the sad part – I did. Here I was in this God forsaken house, this festering pit of torment and evil and yes, damn it, I needed to feel safe! It had already occurred to me that there was a very real chance of an argument. It was hard to tell from the silence whether they were concerned or angry. As always, the atmosphere, that always caused us all to struggle to feel cheerful, hung like a black cloud tormenting us with an ever present depressive mood.

“You feel better here?” Ray asked as he closed the door and took a seat next to me. Gerard remained standing; that wasn’t a good sign. Frank and Bob took chairs from a reading desk near the window. Picking them up was no easy task, I could see from the look on their faces that they were very heavy. Soon enough everyone was where they wanted to be and they were, once again, all staring at me.

“You’re staring,” I muttered, my own gaze not moving from my knees.  
“What’s going on, Mikey?”

It was Gerard. My head rose quickly, stunned by the harshness in his tone, I could only stare back. I wanted to say something, but what? What could I possibly say? The words just wouldn’t come. 

“Gee,” Ray sighed, “do you think, maybe…?”  
“What?” My brother was snapping at him now and within seconds I would know why. “Don’t protect him, Ray! I know, Mikey! Okay? I know!”  
“W…what?” I stammered.  
“You’ve been hitting the booze haven’t you? And pills and God knows what else! Didn’t you learn anything from my mistakes?”  
“But, Gee…”  
“Don’t ‘but, Gee’ me! I know, Mikey, I saw you!” 

Turning his back on me, he flopped down on the arm of the couch. It almost killed me to see him shaking his head in dismay. It would have been worse if I’d known then that there were tears in his eyes.

“You don’t understand, Gee,” I tried to explain. “It’s the only way I can get through this.”

I saw his shoulders shake, it could have been a laugh, it could have been a sob, I’ll never know, but it was then he stood and turned to face me. I looked up to see his eyes almost burning through me, red and terrifying.

“No, Mikey, it’ll take much more than that to get through this!” 

His voice had dropped an octave and the words came out with a deep gravelly texture that was almost as scary as his eyes. It was only then, I realised that he wasn’t the only one staring with those empty blood-red eyes and I was surrounded. Ray was on my right, Frank and Bob to my left and Gerard, now standing over me, his eyes wide, wild and threatening.

“No,” I was shaking my head in sheer disbelief, “please, what’s happening? What do you want? No!”

I was still screaming when I fell to my knees, landing heavily in the empty, dark corridor. With one hand, I tried to stop myself collapsing fully to the floor and with the other I wiped away the tears that streamed down my face.

“Mikey?”  
“No! Let me go!”

I screamed, pushed myself out of reach of Ray and backed against the panelled wall, shaking, crying, terrified.  
The lights came on, which gave me a little comfort, but I was still a quivering wreck on the floor, salt water staining my cheeks, desperately afraid of the man standing over me. The idea is ludicrous, right? Afraid of Ray? But I was, and I couldn’t remember why.

“What’s happened? Did you fall? Ray, did you see?”

Gerard was at my side asking questions, but my mind was a blur of half remembered images. The fear was subsiding, and was to be replaced by embarrassment. 

“Mikey? Are you okay?” Gerard looked up again at Ray as still there was no response from me. “Ray? What did you see? What happened?”

By now, Frank and Bob were standing beside Ray looking concerned and bewildered at the same time.

“What…”  
“Are you hurt?”  
“Did you fall?  
“Where were you going?”

Everyone was talking at once, I couldn’t even work out who said what until, finally Gerard shouted above everyone else. 

“Everyone, shut up!”

It was silent in an instant. So quiet, in fact, that I could hear my stilted breathing and soft hiccupping noises as I tried to stem both my fears and tears.

“Are you okay, Mikes?” Gerard asked quietly, gently. 

I nodded, still unable to speak.

“Frank, get his inhaler, please? It should be on his night stand.”

I watched, with increasing embarrassment and exhaustion as Frank broke away from the small group at a rapid pace.

“You want to get some coffee?” he asked me and I nodded and finally managed a brief ‘thanks’.  
“Here,” Frank thrust the inhaler towards me and I took it with a grateful smile. 

Taking a puff from the small pump achieved nothing. I hadn’t realised how much I was struggling until that moment. Making a conscious effort to control and slow my breathing, just as I’d been taught, I took another lungful; this time successfully. Nodding to let them know I was all right, I let Gerard help me to stand. It was then I noticed Bob had gone. Almost as if he read my mind, Gerard explained.

“Bob’s gone to put a pot on, let’s get you downstairs, eh? You can tell us what happened in your own time.”  
“It was just a dream, Gee,” I tried to explain, but he was already ushering me down the stairs. Bob had switched on all the lights of every room he went through, or even passed. 

He’s a good guy, Bob. He probably realised how relieved I was that it was no longer dark and that I could see, with my own eyes, that nothing was nearby, watching, waiting. And yet, even as I passed through the brightly lit rooms, I looked around, expecting to see her. Who? I didn’t know, but she was there. I wanted the coffee so much. I was exhausted, but I didn’t want to sleep. I didn’t want to admit it, even to myself, but I was scared.

“It’ll just be a couple of minutes, Mikes,” Bob called cheerily as we entered the kitchen.

I took a deep breath, thankful that I could and that it helped.

“Thanks, Bob,” I replied with a weak smile. But we were here; I knew the interrogation was about to begin. But I was grateful when it didn’t start with me. 

“Ray, what did you see?”

It seemed that Ray was as surprised as I was that Gerard went directly to him, but it did give me a few minutes to gather my thoughts.

“Not much, Gee,” Ray replied, accepting the mug of coffee from Bob and passing it to me. “I heard a noise, probably Mikey passing my door. I thought I’d imagined it at first, then I heard crying and screaming. I went out to see if he was okay and I think I woke him up. You were there almost immediately after.”  
“You were sleep-walking, Mikes?”

I frowned. Hadn’t we just discussed this? Or had I dreamt it? 

“Didn’t we…? Ray said I…” I just didn’t know how to phrase it. If it had been a dream, it had felt so real. “Didn’t you say I was sleep-walking?”

Ray looked blankly at me and I felt really stupid now.

“I dreamt it?” I asked quietly. “It felt real.”  
“Dreams do, Mikes,” Gerard nodded. “But sometimes, you really do have something to be afraid of.”

I hadn’t noticed Frank walk behind me; I was too busy listening to Gerard and Ray. The first I realised something was wrong was when I saw the flash of red in Gerard’s eyes and then the guitar string pulled tight around my neck. Dropping my coffee and burning my legs in the process, I clawed ineffectually at the wire slicing through the top layers my skin. I grimaced with pain as I felt the warm, wet trickling sensation of my own blood oozing down my throat. As I pulled desperately at the ever-tightening wire, my fingertips shredded adding yet more pain and blood until I could no longer get a firm grip. My head was reeling. Disorientated and weak from blood-loss, I could hear them laughing as I felt all the fight in me drain away. I thought I was safe in this room, my last refuge torn away from me in so violent a fashion. I knew I was dying.

“Mikey!” 

I could feel my arms gripped so tightly and I was shaking, or rather, I was being shaken.

“Mikey!”

And I was fighting; I wouldn’t let them kill me!

“Let me go! Get away! Let go of me!” 

I kicked and screamed as if my life depended upon it. Finally I saw Ray fall backwards. It was now or never. But there were more hands on me and no amount of thrashing on my part could break free of them. Finally I realised that Gerard had wrapped his arms around me.

“Mikey! It’s okay! It’s okay! Calm down, you’re safe.”

It was only then I realised I was wet.

“Why did you do it? Mikes? Why?” 

Gerard shook with what I knew were tears, his voice sounded desperate.

“I’ll call 911.”  
“No!”

I looked up at Frank, his face was pale, he seemed so distressed. Equally, Ray and Bob, both there, appeared visibly shaken and concerned. I was cold to the bone and soaked.

“No, I’m okay,” I managed to say.  
“Why, Mikes, tell me what’s wrong,” Gerard asked me again. I was more confused than I could possibly explain. “Why did you do it?”  
“Do what?” I stammered.  
“Mikey, we just pulled you out of the pool,” Bob replied apparently confused by my reply. I merely stared back, unable to take it all in. “It’s gone two in the morning, you jumped in fully clothed. What are we supposed to think?”

I waited. Any moment now I would see the flash of red in Gerard’s eyes and I’d know it was yet another nightmare, but it didn’t come. I really had jumped into the pool. Had I tried to drown myself? My nightmares were becoming my reality.


	4. Maybe they'll leave you alone, but not me

I was confused, really confused. I’d had so many nightmares lately. I was beginning to be unsure about what was real and what was imagined. But, this was real. I was cold and wet and very, very scared. Although, I looked around and I could see that I wasn’t the only one. It was dark, but for the moon, partially obscured by a few clouds, and a few amber lights that lined the deck around the pool, but even in this dim light, I could see that Gerard had never looked paler.

I was practically dragged back towards the house, the pool to my left sparkling and glistening in the moonlight. Again I thought I saw something on the opposite side. I tried to stop, to turn and see what it was, but Gerard pulled me forward, his arms still wrapped around me.

He took me to my room and I stopped dead, refusing to go in. I don’t know why, but I just couldn’t do it. Gerard turned the handle and pushed the door open. And there it was; that crawling sensation you get when something is very wrong.

“Get dry and changed, Mikes, and we’ll wait for you in the library.”

I stared at Gerard, wide-eyed and panicked. I really didn’t want him to leave me alone in that room, my room. I can’t explain it, but it scared me, terrified me and at that moment, my proximity to it was heightened further by the sense of impending doom that seemed to permanently hang in the air.

“Gee, will you… I mean…” I couldn’t get the words out. I desperately wanted him to stay with me. I couldn’t be alone, not in that room.  
“You want me to stay?”

It must be the brother thing, I don’t know, but whatever it was, he knew exactly what I wanted, just like he had when… I turned suddenly and stared at his eyes, looking again for that terrifying flash of red that would indicate another nightmare. It didn't come, but that it was real didn't make it feel any less of a nightmare.

“Mikes?” he asked, puzzled by my sudden strange reaction to his thoughtfulness.  
“Nothing. Sorry, I’m fine.”  
“We’ll see you in a few minutes,” Gerard called to the others as he followed me inside the room. "Put the coffee on!" He added, almost as an afterthought.

Grabbing a towel from the overly elaborate gold-coloured rack that I had moved near to the wall after stubbing my toe on it several times, I started to peel off my dripping wet clothes.

“You got a shirt I can use?”

I turned to look at Gerard, naked from the waist up lying stretched backwards on the end of the bed, his jeans almost blending in with the deep blue sumptuous quilt that looked almost black. It wasn’t until then that I remembered that by the pool he had wrapped his arms tightly around me to stop me struggling. Immediately I realised that he too must be wet through. I smiled as he lay there making himself comfortable. He seemed relaxed, which I know must sound odd, because I knew he was worried about me, but I was in view and I was okay as long as he was there. I was amazed by his ability to know exactly how to react around me that would get me to be calm. But most of all I appreciated that he didn’t leave me, even for a moment, to go back to his room.

“Sure,” I replied throwing a shirt in his direction, aiming for his face. I have a good aim.  
“You don’t seem suicidal.”

I looked back as I pulled on a dry pair of jeans. He was looking right at me with a questioning expression mixed with a hint of sadness that I wished I could erase. There are times when he can be unnervingly direct. I don’t think it’s intended to rattle me at all. If anything, he’s doing it to show me that there’s nothing we can’t discuss openly, without embarrassment or fear. I love that. But, somehow, this time, he caught me off guard.

“I’m not, Gee, I mean…”  
“I know you’re not happy,” he announced to my surprise. “But you don’t seem suicidal.”

I looked down as I pulled on a new tee shirt. I didn’t know how to answer him. It was true, I wasn’t happy, but I hadn’t reached so desperate a stage at that time. It frightened me that they had pulled me from the pool. I truly had no recollection of going down there and I wondered how they would have noticed at that hour.  
Looking up once more, my breath faltered as I looked towards the bed and realised I was on my own.

“Gee?” I called nervously; pausing briefly as I received no reply. “Gee!”  
“I’m here, Mikes.”

The voice came from behind me and I whirled around panic-stricken only to see him rummaging in one of the cupboards behind me. My heart pounded in my chest so violently I felt it might burst through and I gasped audibly. Gerard turned to face me and offered a half smile.

“I needed a bigger shirt,” he explained simply. “You’re a skinny fucker, Mikey.”

I nodded with a weak smile and almost a laugh. I had just about accepted that this was real and that alone was enough to bring a smile of relief to my lips.

“You okay?”

It was possibly a stupid question. How could I be? And yet, somehow, I was. Gerard had worked his magic on me again. I nodded with a smile.

“Okay, lets go,” he nodded in the direction of the door and we walked at a fairly brisk pace towards the library.

*

It took less than a minute to get there, but my mind was swirling with questions all the way. Most of all, I wanted to know how they found me. It seemed a strange place for them to be in the early hours. That said – I was. When we arrived, Ray, Bob and Frank were already sitting waiting with five steaming mugs of coffee on the table. I stopped sharply as I noticed that they were in the same positions as they had been in my dream. I took a deep steadying breath. Just as I had a favourite place to sit, so did they and I knew that that’s why I had dreamt it. I felt so stupid.

“Mikey?” Frank began. “Why did you… I mean, were you trying to…”  
“No,” I interrupted him. “I really don’t remember anything. I think that’s scarier than anything. But I’ve come to expect nothing else from this place.”

Gerard pulled his lips taut and thin.

“Mikes, you… There’s nothing here…”  
“If you’re going to tell me there’s no such thing as ghosts then you can stop now! You can’t deny it! We’ve both seen…”  
“That wasn’t here!” Gerard interrupted me. “And it’s not the same thing.”  
“I didn’t say it was the same,” I spoke calmly as the others watched.

I wondered how many, if any of them, guessed what we were referring to. But I had to put that from my mind.

“Gee, there’s something here, I’ve felt it. I’ve almost seen it… I want to say her, but I’m not sure.”

“Mikey,” Gerard sighed. “It isn’t real. What you’re feeling… you’re upset, depressed…”  
“You’re telling me that I’m going crazy!”  
“No! I’m not saying that!” he snapped back at me. “You’re twisting my words!”  
“Either there are ghosts or I’m going crazy! Which is it, Gerard?”  
“There are ghosts.”

I hadn’t expected that and immediately all eyes fell on Bob.

“Bob?” Gerard’s voice grew increasingly higher pitched. “Don’t encourage this! He’s upset enough as it is!”

I watched, intrigued as Bob looked away from the all our searching eyes. He clearly felt uncomfortable by the statement and somehow I knew by his actions and expression that he meant what he said. Not only that, but he was speaking from experience.

“I’m not, Gee,” he replied standing up and, with his back to us, almost in a gesture of embarrassment, he gazed up and down the dozen of shelves full of books. He stared with eyes that, I knew, didn’t see anything in front of him. The distant stare took his mind back to a memory he clearly didn’t feel comfortable with.

“You’ve seen something?” Frank asked, uncertain if the drummer wanted to elaborate. As he turned back to face them, Bob nodded. 

  
“This last week, every day, I’ve woken to find my bathtub full to the brim with ice cold water.”  
“You’ve… your bathtub?” Frank repeated.

I was waiting. Any moment now, someone was going to laugh and tell him it was a prank, but no one did. I grew cold at the idea.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “At first, I thought it was one of you guys and I pretended to be asleep waiting to catch you. But then I heard it start to fill and no one was near it.”  
“It’s just bad plumbing, Bob, that’s all.” Gerard tried to convince him. “It’s an old house.”  
“Yeah,” he nodded as he turned back to face us. “That’s why I switched the water off one night. No water was coming out, but it still filled. And it’s icy cold, nothing like the water that actually comes out of the faucets.”  
“I told you,” I mumbled barely audibly.  
“Well, what do you see, Mikey?” Ray asked.

Ray’s a smart guy. Rather than tell me to ignore it, he asks me what I see so he can try to think of a plausible explanation. But the bathtub story has already shaken us.

“I don’t, I kind of almost see. Everywhere I go, all the time, I’m being watched, followed. And she’s sad, unbearably sad.”  
“She?” Ray prompted me.  
“That’s all I know and if I’m honest, it’s just a feeling, but it smothers me until I’m just as sad and I feel like it’s crushing me.”

The room was silent as they took in my words. I still couldn’t believe I’d actually spoken them out loud. Perhaps I was encouraged by Bob’s admission or maybe just that it was the first time they had actually asked me? I don’t know but it made sense to me to speak out, to actually admit what I was feeling, fearing.

“Is that why you jumped into the pool?” Gerard asked. I could hear the uncertainty and fear in his voice. Was he afraid that I really was going crazy or just thinking about how close I had come to death?

“I don’t even remember doing that, Gee. That scares me more than anything.” I looked down before remembering my original question. “How did you even know I was there?”  
“I saw you,” Ray replied. I was playing, or trying to play, my guitar in the studio. I saw you walk past. I called, but you didn’t hear me. I don’t know why, but I felt worried and I followed you. I called Gee on my cell when I saw you heading for the pool.”  
“There was something there, you know? By the pool,” I tried to explain but only managed to sound melodramatic.  
“Mikey,” Gerard was rubbing his forehead.  
“Look, Gee, I know you don’t believe me, but I’m not making this up!”  
“I didn’t say you were.”  
“No,” I frowned. “You think I’m crazy.”  
“No,” he replied forcefully. “I think something is upsetting you.”  
“Yeah! Right now, it’s you! You always told me I didn’t have to hide my fears. Why do I have to now, just because you don’t accept them?” I was far too angry to be reasoned with.  
“It’s not like that!” he snapped.  
“Well, what is it like?” I yelled back. “Why can’t you accept this?”  
“Because if whatever is doing this really is beyond our control, I'm scared I can’t help you!”

I stared back at him for a few seconds before pulling him towards me. He was just as scared as I was, but for very different reasons.

But now, we had admitted our fears and experiences and it was as if the floodgates had opened. From now on the situation moved downhill rapidly and took us all tumbling with it.


	5. If you look in the mirror and don't like what you see

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey's torment continues

The night I had jumped, fully clothed, into the pool whilst sleepwalking we talked long into the early hours trying desperately to reach some sort of agreement on what had happened and how. Bob’s revelation that he had experienced what can only be described as Poltergeist activity had surprised the others, but I saw it only as confirmation of what I already knew. You might think that I would be happy about that and, yes, to an extent, perhaps I was. At least I wasn’t going crazy, but it didn’t mean that I couldn’t be driven crazy by whatever was tormenting me.

None of us got much sleep for the next few days and it wasn’t just us that suffered. Musically we were spiralling down and finding it hard to even play our instruments, never mind construct new ideas. Things felt hopeless and the situation grew dire. I even began to look forward to the evenings so that I could try to sleep through our problems. But I knew that they would catch up with us. And it would happen sooner than I thought.

*

I should have been in a deep sleep. You know what I mean. The kind where even a nearby explosion wouldn’t cause any more disturbance than to make you roll over. Generally, there’s very little that can rouse me from the comfort of a soft bed and a good dream but I’ve been having too few of those lately. Gerard and I are both world-class at sleeping. If it were an Olympic sport, we’d take gold and silver. If I’m honest, he’d take the gold, but it would be a close run thing. Don’t forget though, he’s older, so he’s had more practice than me.

Here? In this house, it was a very different story. Apart from the night of pool incident, I had slept very lightly, waking at the slightest noise. That night… I was going to say that that night was no different, but it was. Oh, don’t get me wrong, I woke up, but it was what happened next. To give you some perspective, I should explain what usually happens.

When I wake, normally apart from a general sense of discomfort, I feel like I’m surrounded by a suffocating darkness. As if it’s pressing in on me until I can’t move. Some nights, I actually can’t and I’m forced to lie there, helpless and terrified until the sensation leaves me. Sometimes I see shadows move or hear whispers that I can’t quite make out. I can’t close my eyes for fear that something will appear in the room and I won’t know. Why would I want to know? If something suddenly arrived, I’d be screaming for help at the top of my lungs! Oh yes, if something approaches, I want to know about it all right! Or… I’ll just tell you what happened.

I woke quite suddenly, in a cold sweat with my heart racing. I lay still, my head swimming as my pulse went into overdrive. I couldn’t say for certain what actually woke me this time, but I was praying it had just been a bad dream or perhaps it was possible that I’d heard one of the guys walking past my room. Listening intently, I lay so still for a few moments that I actually forgot to breathe, adding to my already overwhelmingly disorientated senses. When I finally realised, I almost gasped as I sucked in the much-needed air. The room wasn’t just quiet; it was deathly silent, almost as if it had been soundproofed against all external noise. Even the air seemed thick and cloying, becoming a real effort to breathe. Edging myself into a sitting position still within the bed, I wondered if I should pull back the covers in case I needed to run. I told myself that the idea was foolish and cowardly - I can be really stupid sometimes.

And then I noticed what I really should have spotted immediately – the light. Not the bizarre overly bright glowing blue bulb the room had been fitted with, but a small pinprick of white light in the mirror. The heavy dark blue damask drapes where, as always, drawn fully closed. Not the tiniest spec of light could break through the flecked silk, lined with a stiff, high-quality cotton. The bedroom door was closed with no light coming from the corridor beyond, and yet there was the light. At first, it was difficult to make out much detail in the mirror, such was the darkness of the room. But slowly, my eyes grew accustomed to what little light was available and I realised, somewhat nervously, that from the perspective in the mirror that the distant light was way beyond being a reflection of anything in the room.

I was transfixed, deeply unnerved, but unable to look away. Had I been paying attention at the time, I would have noticed that my breathing was becoming shallow and rapid as I stared unblinking into the mirror. I drew my knees up to my chin as the light slowly seemed to move toward the glass of the mirror. Growing in size and brightness, it moved closer. As it approached, at it’s centre sat a dark shape that I couldn’t make out. If I wasn’t certain before, I knew now that this was no reflection. Part of me wanted to run, but I didn’t know what I was running from. How could I face Gerard if all I could say was, I saw a scary light?

But it was scary. I couldn’t pretend that this… whatever it was wasn’t chilling me to the bone. The very fact that it was unknown, that it was something I couldn’t begin to explain was bad enough. As I continued to watch, barely allowing myself to even blink, the light began to fade and I started to feel a sense of relief washing over me but it was desperately short lived. The brownish shape that I had seen surrounded by the light, rushed towards the glass with frightening speed, causing me to push myself backwards as I was caught off gused. The smallest, strangled cry left my lips as I hit my head on the wall behind me. My eyes widened as I stared in utter disbelief at what I now realised was a face staring back at me from the centre of the mirror. It was round, dark, and pock-marked as though ravaged by years of untreated disease. Its small unnaturally wide, yet piercing eyes looked directly at me and yet seemed focussed somewhere inside or even behind my head. The straggly, dirty brown hair, hung limp and greasy down its disfigured cheeks. Worst of all, it was just that – a head. Attached to nothing, yet alive, staring intently it held me in its gaze and I was too weak with terror to move.

My breathing, now in short, sharp, infrequent panicked gasps prevented me from crying out as the disembodied head began to laugh at me. Its deep throaty chuckles seemed demonic, the very essence of evil. All I could do was stare as its cold, hollow eyes bore into me as the laughter filled the room, assaulting my ears with its harsh, malevolent and condescending cackle.

I wanted to run, to push myself from the bed and bolt for the door but my legs refused to cooperate. The more I stared, the less likely it seemed I could break free of its hold over me.

“Mikey!”

I almost passed out and, if I’m honest, I wished I had, as it hissed my name threateningly. I clawed at the bedding trying to release myself and run for the door, but it was almost as if it was wrapped around me preventing my escape.

“Mikey!” it hissed again, the voice echoing around the room.

By now tears were streaming unhindered down my cheeks and, in response, the volume of the laughter doubled until I was forced to cover my ears.

“Listen to her,” the voice grew intense and almost screeched, “and the same fate awaits you!”

The harsh peels of laughter became so loud they hurt my ears and I grimaced with pain, even with my hands still firmly clamped over the sides of my head.

In a repeat of the speed with which it finally approached the mirror’s glass, the head rushed forward again. This time out of the mirror and towards me. Closing my terrified eyes and huddling protectively, I finally found my voice and I screamed – long, loud and piercing.

Crying profusely, it seemed like an age before I realised that the vision of the disembodied head had left the room, releasing the atmosphere from its unnatural thickness. The next sound I heard besides my own wrenching sobs was the hammering at my door and the shouts beyond. I recognised Gerard’s voice straight away; he sounded concerned and desperate. Right now, I needed him like I never had, but couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t simply come inside.

“Mikey! Open the door!” he yelled as he continued to hammer on it.

Almost immediately, I heard other voices. Definitely Frank, yeah, and… and Bob then finally Ray; all of them calling to me. Next, I heard Gerard slamming his shoulder against the door and I realised that they couldn’t get in, but my mind was too confused and upset to work out why. Finally I looked over.

“No,” I moaned miserably.

Standing beside the door, one hand holding it firmly, yet effortlessly, closed was the figure of a woman dressed in a smart white shift dress with a silver headband and beads. She was beautiful, in an unconventional way. The beauty you only find from the wealth of sheer confidence that dripped with practised ease from the person in question. Round, expressive eyes roamed over every inch of me until she appeared satisfied by her inspection. All I could manage to do was look down and try to avoid her penetrating gaze. Without even a moment’s glance, I knew she was still staring at me, her eyes boring into me until I was compelled to look up. I tensed, waiting for an attack of some sort, but there she was, just smiling, but it was a forced smile. I could see it was a real effort for her. As she became clearer to me, the sound of Gerard’s frantic cries seemed to almost fade into the distance and I was held transfixed and fascinated.

“It’s you,” I finally managed to whisper. At first, I didn’t even realise that they were my words.

Turning her head, she quickly glanced at the door, which immediately burst open. In that split second, she was gone and with it, my resolve. As Gerard ran in and scooped me into his arms protectively, I realised that I hadn’t stopped crying. Leaning into my brother’s comforting embrace, I sobbed uncontrollably, unable to stop even to explain the shock and trauma I had suffered.

“Sshh, it’s okay. I’m here for you, Mikey. We all are. It’ll be okay, I promise,” he whispered as he rocked me gently.

As he said the words I wondered if even he believed them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so, just add an extra note of terror - this actually happened to me when I was eight. The only difference is that there were no threats and the figure by the door was in fact my deceased granddad. But the appearance of the face and the whole coming out of the mirror thing was exactly as I described and it was a horrible and terrifying laugh. 
> 
> To this day I find it really hard to sleep in a room where I can see a mirror!
> 
> Hope you're enjoying it :) Sas xo


	6. You see me creeping up these halls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys begin to exchange notes with surprising revelations

“It was a dream, Mikes, just a dream, it’s ok.”

I pulled back from his embrace. After everything I’d experienced so far, after what Bob had told us, I just couldn’t believe he was still insisting I was making all of this all up. My tears dried up in an instant, but the stress of the incident leaving me struggling to breathe.

“Why won’t you believe me,” I hiccupped through the simple question; I must have sounded like a small child after a crying fit.  
“Mikey, I do believe you, I do, but…”  
"I want to go home, Gee," I softly whispered into his shoulder.  
"Mikes, the album..." he stammered, pulling back and looking into my bloodshot eyes. "We can't stop now. We've put our hearts and souls into it."  
"And I'm losing my soul in this house!" I snapped, shocked at his response. How could he choose work over family?  
"Well, where's your heart, then?" he almost growled.  
"Don't make me hate you, Gee," I pleaded. From the look on his face, my words seemed to make him think about what he was asking me to do.  
"Are... Are you saying that you won't be able to forgive me if I ask you to stay?"

I gathered myself together as best I could and looked at him directly in the eyes - it was important that he understood how serious I was.

"What I'm saying is, there's nothing you can say that'll stop me going home."

I could see it in his eyes - the conflict. Torn between sympathy and anger. He loved me but I was ruining the album. I had no idea in that moment which would win out. 

“Gee, you have to get your head out of the sand!”

I turned my head and stared open mouthed at Frank, and without even looking, I knew that Gerard had done the same.

“He’s not a kid afraid of the dark, Gee…”  
“I didn’t say he was!” Gerard interrupted, snapping angrily at the suggestion.  
“You didn’t have to say it, Gee,” Frank spoke in a strangely calming voice, almost forcing Gerard to listen to him.  
“It’s not what I think either,” he replied, all the anger having dropped from his tone.  
“But you’re pretending it’s not happening!”  
“I’m not saying it’s not real, I’m…”  
“Ignoring it? Saying it’s something else?”

Gerard’s mouth drew into a thin line as he saw where the conversation was going and knowing all too painfully well that Frank was right.

“Putting your head in the sand?” Frank added, repeating his comment from earlier.  
“I just don’t know what to do,” Gerard admitted lowering his head.

This time it was my opportunity to comfort him and I pulled him back into the hug that was so readily offered to me only moments earlier. 

“Gee, I know you’re scared…”  
“I’m not, Mikes, I’m here for you.”  
“Just admit it!” Ray snapped, irritated by the flow of the conversation.

We all turned and simply stared at him. It was so out of character. Don’t get me wrong, Ray can get angry and when he does lose his temper, woe betide the person who got him to that state. But it takes a lot to anger Ray, a lot more than this.

“Ray?”

It was Frank that finally spoke up.

“Mikey’s not the only one being affected by all this.”  
“I know,” Gerard nodded. “Bob told us…”  
“Not Bob.”  
“Frank, please,” Ray’s voice was small and he had half turned away. “It was a dream, just a dream.”  
“Ray, that was no dream!”  
“What happened?” Gerard asked anxiously.  
“Frank, no,” Ray warned. 

Frank sighed. I could tell that Ray really didn’t want the story told. I wasn’t sure if it was to stop me being afraid or because he was embarrassed. Either way, he wanted to Frank to shut up and he really looked as though he might actually make him.

“Ray, there’s no shame in…”  
“Really? Really? Is that why you’re not telling them what happened to you?” Ray snapped back, his expression still one of anger.  
“Because it was nothing, or it didn’t seem so at the time. Maybe it is, maybe I should… I don’t know! Is any of this helping?”  
“For what it’s worth,” Bob began, having remained silent the whole time. “I think that if we share our experiences, it’ll help us accept what’s happening. Individually, we feel like we’re going crazy. Mikes, I gotta say it, even if no one else does, this room gives me the creeps! I’m not surprised you leave it so often.”  
“You know?” I gasped, turning to look at Gerard. Had he told everyone? “You made fun of me?”

Gerard shook his head vigorously. “No! No, nothing like that! But, I have been hypocritical, Mikes, I’m sorry.”  
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused by his reply.  
“I’ve been telling you there’s nothing to worry about, but telling the guys how concerned I am. I’m confused and scared, about you, about this place and what it’s doing to all of us. There, I’ve said it!” Gerard took a deep breath as if cleansing himself of inner demons. “Maybe it’s time to compare notes?”

A series of silent nods of agreement answered Gerard’s question and I slipped out of bed to join them in their trek down to the kitchen. I had a feeling this would be a long night.

"I'll stay, Gee," I whispered. 

Somehow not being the only one had made it bearable and it made me feel able to stay - if only because I was worried for them! But in truth, I was still unsure if I'd regret the decision.

"I'm sorry, Mikey, I'm really sorry. If you need to go home, that's fine, we can sort something out. We..."  
"I'll stay, it's okay." I took his hands. "I don't feel like I'm going crazy any more. Not unless we all are."

Gerard smiled thinly at me before drawing me in for a comforting and supportive hug. It had never even occurred to me that he could have been afraid and I I felt guilty. I hugged back with as much comfort as I was able to offer.

*

I hadn’t realised what time it was; I thought it was still night. We had all gone to bed very late, but I had assumed that it was only an hour later or even less. I was surprised to see that the beginnings of dawn breaking through the windows beyond my room. It was difficult to tell what time of day it was in my room. The heavy drapes kept all of the light out, but even when open, the room seemed to exude a sense of gloom and despair that seemed to exclude time. In my room, it was permanently night and always terrifying.

By contrast, the kitchen, with its wide windows, seemed like a breath of fresh air, almost as if it was part of a different house. I felt safe here; not relaxed, like I was in the library, but safe and right now, safe was good enough.

“Okay,” Gerard opened the discussion. “Who wants to go first?”  
“I will,” Frank replied decisively. “Ray knows about this, as I’m sure you realise. I didn’t tell you guys, because I thought it was nothing, then after Mikey went into the pool and Bob told us about the bathtub thing, I just didn’t want to make things worse. We were all getting edgy…”  
“You mean me? If you mean me, you can say so.”

I didn’t mean it to sound quite as harsh as it did, but I was tense and, well, it was said now, there was little I could do about it.

“No, Mikey,” Frank spoke slowly. “I mean all of us. But I do understand that you’ve had to deal with most of what’s happened.”

I felt a bit foolish and paranoid. Why was I turning on them? Or, assuming that they were turning on me? It didn’t make any sense. It was almost as if Frank could read my thoughts and he answered them.

“We’re all getting edgy and sometimes we get edgy with each other because we can’t understand or explain. That’s what this is about. Instead of pushing each other away because we’re scared, we do what we’ve always done. Lean on each other, all of us.”  
“I’m sorry I snapped before, Frank,” Ray spoke softly. “You’re right, I’m just… tired… and edgy.”

Frank nodded, glad to see that we had all calmed enough to talk and listen. With a deep sigh, he began to speak again.

“It was the day we got here, well, the night. I couldn’t sleep and I kept hearing a shuffling noise. I thought it was one of you guys and I yelled for whoever it was to keep the noise down. You know what I’m like in a new bed, I can never sleep right through the first night. Anyway, I’d just get off and it would start again. Always there, right on the edge of my sleep, this shuffling noise. I got up and went out into the hall and I saw what looked like a guy near the top of the stairs, dragging something. He was tall and thin, I thought it was Mikey at first; it was really dark. But then, he looked right at me. He grinned right at me. I could see him clearly by this point; the moon was coming in right through the window and I could see what he was dragging too. It was a body. I was scared stiff. I couldn’t speak, I couldn’t move. I just stood there staring, and he stared back at me. And then, a cloud drifted across the moon and he was gone. And… and I don’t mean he ran off. The whole image just faded. I couldn’t stop staring or move. I was desperate to work out what it was I’d really seen. I definitely did not want to believe it was a guy dragging a body, you know? But, if it was a ghost, he was totally aware of me. He looked right at me, the most evil expression I’ve ever seen. Just grinning at me with that pock-marked face and I…”  
“Pock-marked!”

I looked at Ray. He looked at me. I hadn’t even heard Ray’s account, but as we both cried out at the same time, we knew we had seen the same face as Frank. The next question in my mind was. The body – was it a woman? Was it the same woman I had seen? Something told me that Ray was wondering the same thing.  
❮

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I always thought that the lyrics to Famous Last Words sounded like a conversation in parts - some Gerard's words, some Mikey's. I've included a few lines to show what I mean. What do you think? Hope you enjoyed, Sas xo


	7. I don't care! We'll carry on...

We were all very quiet for… I was going to say a few minutes, but it probably wasn’t anything like as long as that, but it felt it. I looked at Ray again and I had to ask.  
  
“You’ve seen him too?”   
Ray sighed and nodded. “Yeah, but I like everyone else, I didn’t want to talk about it. Even though, if I’m honest, I didn’t think I dreamt it, I didn’t want to accept it was real either.”  
“What happened?” Gerard asked.   
  
Gerard's voice was quiet, curious and, at the same time, troubled. I couldn’t help but wonder if he was asking himself why he was the only one that hadn't been visited in some way by one of the two spirits. Frank and I had both seen a disfigured man and a woman. Bob had the experience with his bathtub. I had no idea which of them would be responsible for that, but I felt that it was connected in some way. Now Ray was going to tell us his experience and already we knew from his earlier reaction that the man was involved in some way, but how? I could see he was reluctant to start speaking again. Maybe in some way he believed that if he didn’t say the words out loud that just maybe it hadn’t happened. I offered him an encouraging smile and nodded, I hoped, reassuringly. Only moments later, Ray began to speak.  
  
“It began a few days after we arrived, I woke up in the middle of the night and I saw a light under my door. I figured someone was up, so I’d get up too, make a coffee or something. I hadn’t been sleeping too well. To be honest, Mikes, I thought you were up. You know my room backs onto yours… well, I’d heard noises in the night.”  
“What kind of noises?” I asked.   
  
Ray had just unnerved me; the idea that there were noises coming from my room that I wasn’t aware of scared me even more than my own experiences. He lowered his eyes and sighed; I could see he looked really uncomfortable and didn’t want to tell me, but I had to know.  
  
“Go on,” I pressed.  
“It was mostly crying,” he finally admitted.  
“Me?” I gasped, unsure what to think.  
“I don’t know, Mikes, I thought it was at first, the sounds were muffled and it could have been, maybe in your sleep or something. I mean the other night I did see you walking around crying, but it may not have been you every time. Now that we know about the…” Ray’s voice trailed off and he seemed reluctant to actually say the word _ghosts_.  
“So you got up?” Gerard prompted, keen to deflect from the awkwardness, which, I’ll admit, was making me feel a little uncomfortable.  
“Yeah,” Ray snapped to, nodding as he remembered where his story was leading. “I went into the corridor and the floor was wet. There were puddles of water all along the corridor, down to the stairs. The trail actually started at Bob’s room...”  
  
I couldn’t help but notice Bob’s startled expression; I think he had drawn the same conclusion that I already had. His bathtub, the water trail, Frank seeing the man dragging the body of a woman.  
  
“Yeah…” Ray nodded, “you’ve seen the connection? Of course, I didn’t know at the time, so I figured Bob was up and something was maybe wrong. I followed the water and headed downstairs. When I got to the foot of the stairs there was a… a something rolled up in a tarpaulin.”  
“A body?” Frank asked, remembering his own experience.  
“I didn’t look,” Ray shrugged. “At the time, I was convinced that something was wrong with Bob and I just wanted to find him. I heard a shuffling noise in the kitchen and went in. I figured maybe he was in there looking for something to clean up the water, and… that’s when I saw him.”  
“The pockmarked man?” I asked quietly.  
“Yeah,” he nodded. “But it was just for a second or two. He was standing there, near the counter with a cleaver in his hand, running his finger along the edge. But, the thing I’ll never forget is the look on his face. I only saw it for a moment, but…” Ray shook his head. “It was chilling. It was a cold, evil smile. He looked pleased with himself and…” Ray exhaled deeply as he thought back to the sighting of the man. “He looked crazy. He turned and looked right at me. My blood ran cold; he looked as though he was going to kill me or something and I was about to run, but just a second later…”  
“He vanished?” Frank asked. From the question, I got the feeling that that had been his experience of the man; that he had simply faded in front of him.  
“I wish!” he rolled his eyes. “I heard him laugh.” Ray put his hand to his mouth as he recalled the sound. “It was terrifying, I don’t mind admitting. It was a hollow, angry, intimidating laugh and he turned the cleaver in his hands. Then, the lights went out and it was pitch darkness. Darker than anything I ever saw, like having my eyes shut inside a deep cave or something. I could still hear his laughter, but I couldn’t see him. I was shaking, sweating, my heart was banging and then I woke up. I was in my room, drenched in sweat.”  
“So, it was a dream?” Bob asked, tilting his head to one side.   
  
He looked hopeful, he clearly didn’t want it to be real. I wasn’t sure if that was because of the connection to his room or it he was just concerned for Ray, but he looked pretty unnerved from where I was sitting. Then, of course, it got worse – we all looked unnerved, Ray most of all. I think he had doubted the reality of the situation up until now, but actually saying the words out loud seemed to put finality on them. A stamp of truth that he never had to admit to before.  
  
“I don’t know,” he shrugged nervously, “but when I put my light on the carpet at my bedside was soaking wet and the cleaver was on the floor.”  
  
We all just stared. I can’t speak for anyone else, but it chilled me to my core. No wonder he hadn’t wanted to tell anyone. Gerard seemed scared suddenly. I think he thought he was next. He wanted so much to be strong for me, but I think simply knowing I wasn’t alone in this had comforted me a little. But… I knew that comfort would fade the moment I stepped back into that room. Day or night, that room was trying to crush me and, though it kills me to admit it, it was succeeding.   
  
The room hung in absolute silence for a few moments as we took it all in. We didn’t know what to do. Comfort Ray? Brush it off? I guess the problem we were faced with was that none of us really wanted to believe it was real. And even if we accepted that one simple fact, we certainly wouldn’t acknowledge that it worried us, let alone scared us. Why? We’re guys. Facing up to our emotions – not our strong suit. Ask any guy, they’ll tell you they don’t fear anything. Of course we do, we’re just too dumb to admit it. So, what do we do? We get ourselves into situations we just can’t handle – like this one.  
  
We’d sunk so much money into this project, this location. We couldn’t just pull the plug. Our label bosses would have had a seizure. Of course, we knew in advance that strange things happened in the house. Papa Roach had recorded there before us and we knew some pretty freaky things had happened to them but nothing like this, this was beyond anything we were familiar with. This was straight out of a horror movie, except it was real. I love horror movies, the scarier the better – I love it! But that’s because I know I can switch off the TV and everything’s okay in the real world. Here, I felt as though the real world had abandoned me and I for one was scared.  
  
“So,” Gerard broke the silence. “Today, we take a day off and we do some research. We find out what this is all about.”  
  
He sounded so decisive, so certain that we could resolve it and it would all be okay. I felt like I was Shaggy from Scooby Doo – the coward, wanting to run away. Gerard was Fred, he had a plan, he was sure of himself, that he could make this right. Perhaps it would be okay? Like the cartoon, this pockmarked man would turn out to be a guy in a mask – a particularly ugly mask – just trying to frighten us. We’d be those pesky kids that foil his plans. I almost laughed at the idea as, by extension, I wondered who would be Daphne and Velma. But I clung onto it desperately – an alternate reality that might just get me through.   
  
Gerard’s idea to understand what was happening seemed a reasonable one and I just hoped it would help and not just make things worse. If I’d known at that moment just how scared he really was and how great an actor he is – I think I’d have led the call to leave then and there. But we stayed and we regretted it.  
  
“There might be something in the library?” I offered.  
“Right,” Gerard nodded decisively. “We’ll have breakfast and start there.”  
  
I loved the library, I felt safe there. Part of me was comforted at the idea, but as much as I was, I knew that the evening was still only a matter of hours away.


	8. Get me the hell out of here!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey's safe haven is shattered

It was weird. We ate breakfast like we didn’t ever want it to end, slowly chewing each mouthful and each of us drinking more coffee than Gerard would normally drink in a week. As much as we wanted to get to the bottom of what was happening I think, the truth was we didn’t want to start looking into it. I think that was because of my revelation that the pockmarked man had threatened me with the same fate as the woman if I didn’t just leave things as they were. In one sense I wondered if he had already tried to make good on that threat by sending me into the pool during my sleepwalking. We couldn’t deny the possibility and it scared us all. And as much as we had vowed to be strong for each other, we still weren’t fully opening up about how we felt. I know I wasn’t, and neither was Gerard. Again, it’s probably that brother thing – we know each other’s mannerisms so well; I knew it was dwelling on his thoughts. I didn’t know what to do, I literally had no words of comfort for him because I was scared stiff myself. It seemed reasonable that Frank, Ray and Bob were feeling it too, but because we said nothing, neither did they. They, no, we were being strong in our own ways, but it didn’t help that we were having trouble sharing our feelings. It was Frank who finally broke the silence.

“Okay, so, the library?” he asked; his tone was forced, but tried to sound upbeat and I think we all appreciated the effort.  
“Yeah,” Gerard agreed standing up. “We can get one of the laptops from the studio in there too. Trawl around on Google; there’s bound to be something on the house, it’s pretty old.”

Almost as soon as I stepped through the door, I relaxed and felt ready for anything. I wished I could sleep in that room, I had never felt anything threatening in there and it was the only room, including the studio, that I felt comfortable in.

Pulling down books from the shelves, everyone settled themselves into a comfortable chair or sofa with Gerard taking the desk and setting up the laptop in front of him.

Ray had a book on the family history, Frank had a local history book, Bob had pulled a short volume on the actual building and behind them all, covered in dust lay a small leatherbound and somewhat tatty book, tied with a black satin ribbon. I was immediately drawn to it. I had taken some of the books from the shelves before now and never noticed it, but I couldn’t honestly say if I had taken those specific books. From the thick layer f dust, I'd say that it appeared to have fallen behind them many years earlier and on opening it, from the colour of the pages, I revised my estimate to some decades earlier. They were brown and the edges were – it brought a brief smile to my face – torn and frayed. A little like my nerves. I settled down to read it, realising almost immediately that it was a diary.

At first, I felt as though I shouldn’t look at it – it was a diary after all, a very personal thing – but something told me not to be so stupid, the person would be long dead by now, surely. How right I was!

It didn’t take long for us to find out more about the history of the house and its inhabitants. Built in 1923 it was variously named The Paramour Mansion or The Crestmount but originally and officially The Canfield-Moreno Estate. Your typical residence of a film star and heiress. Lavish parties would be held for the high-society of the 1920s and 30s but it ended abruptly with a horrific car crash in 1933 when Daisy Canfield plunged off a cliff on Mulholland Drive whilst returning from a party.

We sat and discussed this tragic event for maybe another hour or so before finally giving up on that line. As terrible as that was, we couldn’t squeeze a connection between the crash and the more terrifying aspects of the hauntings. The only glimmer that something was amiss was the suggestion in one of the books that perhaps her car had been tampered with. Daisy Canfield knew the road well and there was no reason to suspect that she might career off the edge of a cliff if nothing was wrong. But then, there was the party – in those days driving after drinking wasn’t illegal, it wasn’t even considered a problem. She could have been drunk. It didn’t say in the report and we had hit a dead end… except, of course for the diary.

I started reading. It began, as most diaries do, in January and it was fairly uneventful, but as I approached the end of February, my blood ran cold.

“Listen,” my voice was barely above a whisper and I had to cough to find my normal volume. Reading to Gerard and the guys, I began to think I’d found something to explain what was happening, or at least something that related to it. “This is the diary of Lucy Morgan for 1933. She was Daisy Canfield’s best friend.”

 

**_Wednesday, 22 February_ **

_Arrived at the estate in plenty of time for the ball on Saturday. Daisy can’t wait. She’s in the party spirit already, already trying to talk me into going to yet another party tomorrow. To get me 'in the mood' she says. I’m tired, it’s been a long journey, but she’s insisting. I feel terrible not wanting to go, she seems so keen to get out of the house for some reason. She is very edgy. Perhaps it’s nerves for Saturday? Senator Williams will be here, but she’s entertained on a grand scale before. Whatever it is, she won’t tell me._

**_Thursday, 23 February_ **

_Daisy’s off to the party, but I have the most awful migraine coming on. Early night and a couple of sleeping tablets for me._

**_Friday, 24 February_ **

_Awoke to the worst news ever. Daisy is dead. She crashed her car. They think she lost control on Mulholland Drive and went off the cliff. I can’t believe it, I just can’t. But for a migraine, I would have been in that car too._

**_Saturday, 25 February_ **

_Wandering around in a daze. Everything is so quiet, but for the sound of Frederick chopping in the pantry, he hasn’t stopped since yesterday. Maybe he’s upset too? I think he had something of a crush on Daisy. Who could blame him? She is... was, so beautiful and I doubt she even gave him a second look, poor man. Aside from Daisy being married, of course, she would never cheat on Antonio. Frederick seems to have suffered from smallpox at some point. His face is ravaged and pitted. He seems sullen and almost aggressive. I suppose it hits us all in different ways._

_It would have been the ball tonight, but it’s silent now._

**_Sunday, 26 February_ **

_I still can’t believe she’s gone. It’s been three days now and her funeral is looming. Preparations, plans… it’s all happening like they’re organising a military exercise or some great party, which of course, to some of them, it is. Hardly surprisingly, Antonio has been hit very hard and he barely comes out of his room._

**_Monday, 27 February_ **

_He’s there, everywhere I go. I never noticed before, but wherever I turn, there he is. It’s really starting to annoy me._

**_Tuesday, 28 February_ **

_It’s not annoying any more. I’m certain he’s following me. I have to stay for the funeral, but he’s scaring me. All I want to do is leave._

_Paid my last respects to Daisy. She’s dressed in blue, her favourite colour, she matches the room she's been laid out in. Her face is covered. I suppose the crash… I’ll remember her the way she used to look._

**_Wednesday, 1 March_ **

_Just one more day and night and I can leave. I feel so guilty for thinking like this, but now I’m certain. Last night I heard someone outside my door. I didn’t look, I was too scared it would be him. I keep the door locked tight. I’m probably paranoid, but I’m really starting to have my doubts about Daisy’s accident._

**_Thursday, 2 March_ **

_The funeral. I should have been paying my respects, I should have been concentrating on the ceremony, the family, but he was there again. Just far away enough not to be noticed except by me. He was smiling, right at me. Now I’m certain, absolutely certain._   
_I’m leaving tomorrow; I’m so relieved. I can’t stay another night in this house. As soon as I’m home, I’m going to the police._

 

All eyes were wide as I finished reading. They had noticed some of the details I had, I was sure, but I had to check I wasn’t reading more into it than was really there.

“This Frederick guy…” I began, hardly knowing how to phrase it.  
Ray nodded grimly. “Smallpox! It’s him, the pockmarked man. It has to be.”  
“What’s next?” Gerard asked pointing to the diary, still open in my hands.  
“There is no next, that’s the last entry.”  
“She never went to the police?” Frank asked with a worried frown.  
“Frank, this diary was hidden at the back of the books. I don’t think _she_ ever left.”

I couldn’t believe I was saying the words, but even as I did a strange tremor ran through the room. At first it was like a faint vibration, like a train passing by. I didn’t know what to think, but as the rumbling steadily grew, we looked at each other nervously. Was it an earthquake? A low flying plane? What?

Dust began to fall from the shelves on which the books had stood and ornaments were visibly shaking. I jumped up. The library was my haven, my safe place in this whole terrifying building. I wasn’t about to let it start scaring me now too. I had to get out. The guys were on their feet too and as Gerard moved towards the door it slammed shut in front of him. Pulling hard on the handle, I could see the effort in his face as the door refused to budge. Ray, Bob and Frank all moved closer to help, but there was only room for two. I watched, rigid, rooted to the spot as both Bob and Gerard pulled frantically on the handle. Ringing in my ears above the ever-increasing rumbling I was sure I heard a whisper of laughter. Looking around frantically I couldn’t see anything, but something, someone was there, I was certain.

As suddenly as it started, it stopped. Everything fell silent and the door simply clicked open. We all stood, very still, very quiet, trying to reconcile in our minds what had just happened. We needed… I needed something real, something solid to hang on to. By this point, it was all I could do not to crack.

It had to be an earthquake; I wouldn’t let myself believe anything else.


	9. Can you hear me cry to to you?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An attack on Gerard proves too much for Mikey

By now I was getting good at pretending, or at least that’s what I was telling myself. In my mind I was handling it well. What I was actually doing was telling myself I was imagining it all, that it wasn’t really happening. That way I could pretend it wasn’t bothering me. Yes, that’s what I was doing. I was giving an outward impression that I could handle it all and I was brave. That none of this was touching me and I was just getting on with everything. Yeah, that’s what I was telling myself. It’s amazing what you can convince yourself of, even if you don’t actually believe it. Truth was, I didn’t believe it and no one else was going to either. But by now it was as if there were two of me and the me that wanted to believe that everything was okay was managing to override the other me that was falling apart. I kept the other me, the scared wreck of a man, out of the loop with alcohol and pills. If he wasn’t coherent, then how could he be scared? Make sense?

No, I know. I look back on this now and I don’t know what scares me more – what happened or how I reacted to it.

The rest of the day after the incident in the library, I pretty much kept to myself. I didn’t know the guys were worried. Well, I guessed that they might be concerned about what was going on, after all they had all experienced it by now, but it never occurred to me that I was adding to the problem with my behaviour. The thing is, previously it had all happened at night before and now, the daytime and the library had been invaded by whatever was haunting this place. The library, my one safe place in the whole building had been taken from me. I felt alone, isolated. I drew into myself, which only made things worse for Gerard.He grew increasingly concerned but it was as if I couldn’t see it. I was blinkered, blindfolded, eyes shut tight like a child afraid of the dark. But I was afraid, because I knew that something in the dark was coming for me.

As it turned out, that night I was to be proved wrong and for the first time since we arrived, I wholeheartedly wished it had come for me.

 

*

It was late. Very late. Downstairs the clock had chimed the half hour, but I didn’t know which hour. If I were to guess it would be two or three. Sleep had come to me slowly and when it had it was brief and filled with nightmares. Usually when you wake from a nightmare, you’re glad. Even if it’s a particularly vivid nightmare and you still feel scared on waking, you’re glad it’s over.Breathing returns to normal, a sip of water and you’re ready to sleep again. Not me. Waking from a nightmare in that room was always terrifying.

The room exuded the feeling that it had created the nightmare that your disturbing and chilling dreams were merely an appetiser; a taste of what was really to come. The atmosphere was thick and hostile making breathing, even swallowing difficult.Shadows seemed darker, and more opaque than they should be. It was as if they were black masses, real things with a life of their own, hiding from me, ready to attack if I for a moment glanced away. My mind was already racing when I heard the splash of water coming from the adjoining bathroom. My heart plummeted and hammered so hard in my chest I thought it might explode. I felt the heat of panic wash over me and only then did I notice the faint light underneath the bathroom door.

I’ve never thought of myself as brave and whenever Gerard and I would watch a horror movie, we always berated the people who never put lights on or went down into the cellar even though they heard the screams. Yet, here I was, out of bed before I even realised it and without switching on even a lamp, I was edging slowly towards the bathroom door.

As I approached , there was more splashing, I even saw what looked like water coming under the door. More splashing, banging like someone thumping or kicking the bathtub, muffled screaming, gurgling and finally, as I placed my hand on the door handle, the most chilling laughter I ever heard in my life.

I was rooted to the spot. Ice-cold water lapped at my feet as the laughter continued and the rest of the noise finally subsided, leaving only the sound of water gently swishing back and forth in the tub. If what was happening was real, then had I just allowed someone to be murdered in my bathroom? Was it real? Could it be real? The water snaking around my feet felt real. The laughter still ringing in my ears sounded real enough. And then, of course, it hit me – if it was real, we were the only ones here.Who was in there?

Quickly turning the handle, I threw open the door only to find the room in absolute darkness. Expecting to be pushed aside, I planted my feet firmly but the second or two that flew by with no response confused me. Peering into what was, at first an impenetrable darkness but slowly gave way to a variety of shapes and shadows, I swung my arm up sharply and hit the light switch. Nothing. There was nothing and no one there; the bathtub was dry, as were my feet.

I held my breath; I was going crazy. Or at least that’s how it felt. Briefly I felt as though a haze had come down over my eyes and I realised a few moments later that I was actually crying. It was too much, far too much and I just couldn’t deal with it.

Lowering my head, I allowed my tears to fall ever faster and it wasn’t long before I felt a pair of hands on my shoulder. I doubted if the guys ever slept all that well while I was there, I was always waking them up for some reason or another. But when I looked up once more, I gasped audibly as in the bathroom mirror I saw the figure standing behind me wasn’t Gerard or any of the guys. The woman I had seen in my room once before stood with her hands on my shoulders and I couldn’t budge an inch. Either I was frozen with fear or somehow she was stopping me from moving. Whatever the cause I was rigid, staring straight ahead, terrified. In the light from the bathroom, I could see she was dripping wet. Her hair plastered against her head, her skin cast with a faint blue tinge.

“I can’t protect you any more.”

The woman spoke without moving her lips. Perhaps I just imagined it? Perhaps she made the words appear in my head, but I knew it was a warning. Perhaps she told me much more than those few words, or maybe I just realised simply because it all fitted. I knew this was Lucy and I was hearing her death over and over. Remembering the night when Gerard had pulled me from the pool, I now knew I had almost met with the same death myself. Finding her diary had made things so much worse instead of better. I knew that it was bad, but her next words to me hit me like a ton of bricks. Suddenly, I knew things were spiralling out of control.

“I can’t protect any of you.”

In that instant, as weak as I felt, I found myself able to pull away from her. As I did, sounds came to my ears that I knew I hadn’t heard earlier. It was coming from next door; Gerard’s room. A mixture of incomprehensible words and sounds, growing louder with every passing second until they filled my ears and as frightened as I was, I knew I had to help him. As I moved, I almost lost my footing as my legs gave way for a moment and I scrambled back up, and headed, half running, half stumbling tot the door. As I threw open the door into the hallway, I looked back only to find my room empty. It held my attention for a few seconds more – I was certain the room only looked empty. One of those shadows. One of them wasn’t what it seemed – but which one?

Launching myself towards Gerard’s room, the sounds, those terrifying sounds grew increasingly loud as I approached. Opening the door was to be the first challenge. I knew he hadn’t locked it, he never did, but just as with the library earlier in the day, there was no budging it. Hammering on the door, I was screaming at the top of my lungs but nothing I did made any difference.Trying the handle once more, I almost fell into the room as it turned suddenly. Staggering forward to regain my balance, my eyes widened as I saw him. Frederick, the pockmarked man, the murderer standing over Gerard. Slowly he turned to face me and was just smiling at me. It was a cruel, evil smile, one that only seemed to confirm my worst fears. Below him, lying on the bed, Gerard was still sleeping, choking, gasping, crying out with muffled, strangled words for help.

“Get away from him!” I screamed, running forward.

I didn’t know what to expect, what I thought was going to happen when I reached him. He was a ghost, a phantom. Despite the very real fear he had created within me, within all of us, and the terrifying demonstrations of his abilities – slamming doors, dreams, the sounds, the water… everything – despite all this, he wasn’t a physical being. Certainly not in the sense I understood, anyway.

With my hands raised to push him aside, I saw them move through his body. My own momentum carried me onwards until I slammed against the wall. As I passed through him, a chill settled into every bone in my body and I ached with the sheer agony of the cold seeping into my very soul. All at once, I felt fear, anger, love, hatred, and the very essence of evil poured into every inch of my body. It was all I could do and more to remain standing. Despite the continued sounds of distress coming from the bed, I was exhausted, drained and empty.

Sliding down the wall, I felt that all emotion and strength had been sucked from me, leaving me an empty shell. I don’t even remember reaching the floor. Neither do I remember the guys racing in to help, having heard my screams and Gerard’s muffled cries. I was, by all accounts, a quivering wreck. Huddled in the corner, hugging my legs, silent tears streaming down my face.

It was the beginning of the end for me.

[❮](http://ficwad.com/story/163454)


	10. Disappointed faces of your peers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey wakes up in the hospital terrified he might be losing his mind

I was on the floor, cowering, petrified. I had passed through this man. This evil, terrifying man and I had heard his thoughts, felt his malevolent and base nature and now all I wanted to do was hide. I could hear Gerard coughing, choking out words, but they were incoherent to me until I heard him shout.  
  
“It wasn’t Mikey!”  
  
I could hear the rasping in his voice like he’d been strangled and I knew that was exactly what had happened. Lucy – I was sure the woman I was seeing was Lucy Morgan, the owner of the diary I had found – Lucy had warned me that there was nothing she could do now to protect us. To tell the truth, I hadn’t known she was protecting us. I certainly didn’t feel protected. I felt vulnerable and scared. But most of all, I felt threatened. I felt as though we were all in danger from this evil man. I had heard his thoughts, felt his evil and it had reduced me to a wreck.  
  
“Then who was it, Gerard? If it wasn’t Mikey, who was it and why was he standing over you with his hands around your throat?”  
  
My head snapped up at the words. I didn’t do that! Did I? It was impossible… wasn’t it? Frank seemed so sure, so certain. But…  
  
“No!”

I was screaming, pushing myself upright, using my hands against the wall behind me, but I kept slipping. My hands were wet and I fell back to the floor at least once. Finally scrambling to my feet, I looked at my hands; they were slick with sweat and blood. I think that shocked me more than anything. Looking up, open-mouthed, I saw the accusatory stares aimed right at me and finally I saw Gerard’s neck, glistening in the dim light. Sweat mixed with blood from the scratch marks on his neck was beginning to trickle down to his shirt and I saw him throw a hand up to cover the marks as he saw me look at him with what I can only assume was a look of horror firmly etched on my face. Had I just attacked my own brother? But what about the man I saw? Frederick, the pockmarked man? We’d all seen him… hadn’t we? 

  
“He was there!” I yelled, my eyes wild and wide. “He was right there grinning at me! He was strangling Gee, I had to…”  
  
My words tapered to nothing. They didn’t believe me. Not one of them. Not even Gerard. Yes he was defending me, but it was there in his eyes. I was going crazy. Right there in that house, right in front of them. I didn’t know what was real any more and… and, was I dangerous? I couldn’t bear to think what they were thinking.  
  
“Mikey, no, you didn’t, you saved me. You…”  
  
I pushed through them all and ran from the room with no idea what to do or where to go. All I knew was I couldn’t look at them, looking back at me with those eyes, so heavy with accusation. It was too much.  
  
I was running blind, tears streaming down my face. Too much confusion, too much noise in my head. The image of that man choking Gerard, laughing at me. The thought that I had imagined it, that it might have been me. I could still hear his laughter, his mocking evil laughter and his sneer filled my memory. It was the last thing I remembered. That and the stairs so close to my face as I tumbled and rolled, wildly out of control.

  
*  
  
  
“He’s waking up.”  
  
The voice filtered through to my fuzzy, clouded mind. I think it was Ray. Yes, Ray. I was sure when he spoke again.  
  
“Gee, he’s waking up.”  
  
What light I could see was instantly dulled as a number of shapes crowded around me and I voice I didn’t recognise spoke.  
  
“Please, step back, give him some room.”  
“Is he okay?”  
“Gerard?” I whispered.  
“Yeah, Mikey, I’m here. You’re going to be all right, don’t worry.”  
“Where am I?”  
  
I could tell just from the sheer brightness of the room and the lack of heavy oppression closing in on me that I wasn’t at the mansion. But more than that, I had no idea. As my eyes began to focus, I saw a man in a suit standing next to me on one side and the guys on the other. Finally I realised I was in the hospital.  
  
“You’ve got a few bumps and bruises, young man but you’re lucky you didn’t break anything. I want to keep you in overnight for observation though, there’s a possibility of concussion and we want to be sure.”  
  
I was torn. One part of me was relieved beyond all measure to be out of the mansion, but how could I stay at the hospital now that I knew Frederick was trying to kill Gerard? Maybe all of us?  
  
“No.”  
  
I shook my head and immediately wished I hadn’t as my temples exploded with pain and a wave of nausea swept over me. I groaned weakly as bile rose in my throat and I found myself retching uncontrollably.  
  
“Can I ask you to wait outside for a moment?” the doctor asked.  
“No!” I was crying again, I wasn’t even aware until I felt the salt water trickle onto my lips. “No, I need to speak to Gee!”  
  
I was reaching for him, but the orderly or nurse, or whoever it was – I could barely focus - was trying to usher him out.  
  
“Mikey, I’ll be back in a few minutes,” he called half way from my bed.  
“He’s very agitated,” the doctor sighed. “I think we should sedate him.”  
“Gee!” I was inconsolable. Someone had tried to kill him, they might try again. Worse still, did they still think it was me?  
“Let me speak to him first,” Gerard pressed.  
“P…please,” I added, trying to forcibly calm myself.  
“Five minutes,” the doctor conceded as he, what I now realised was a nurse and the rest of the guys left the room.  
“Mikes, how are you feeling?” he asked gently.  
“It wasn’t me, Gee, I didn’t… tell me it wasn’t me…”  
  
By now even I had to admit, I wasn’t sure.  
  
“It wasn’t you, Mikes. It was him; I saw him too. I woke up, but I couldn’t move. Not my arms, legs, nothing. I could barely make a sound. I could see him walking towards me, grinning. And his eyes, I’ll never forget those eyes burning through me. I tried to shout but everything was coming out muffled like I was gagged. I just couldn’t work my lungs or something. He leaned over me, laughing, telling me that I shouldn’t have disturbed the past.”  
“The past lies buried and you will be buried with it.”  
  
I could see Gerard pale and his eyes widen as I spoke the words, he even took a step back.  
  
“I’ve heard whispering in my room,” I forced out, too scared to even think about it. “Those words over and over.”  
“Oh, God, Mikey!”  
  
He threw himself over me and hugged me like his life depended on it. Perhaps it did?  
  
“Why didn’t you tell me? You didn’t say anything.”  
“I thought I could handle it, then I thought I was going crazy. Am I?” my voice tapered almost to nothing with those last two words.  
“Only if we all are,” he replied quietly.  
“But no one else saw him. Frank said he saw me choking you.”  
Gerard shook his head. “He saw you trying to pull his hands away but because he couldn't see him, it just looked as though you were attacking me.”  
  
I just stared back. I didn’t remember that. All I recalled was running at him and ultimately through him, trying to push him aside, before collapsing to the floor. Was Gerard humouring me? Protecting me?  
  
“We’ve arranged for you to stay with someone when you get out of the hospital,” he began, stopping only as he saw me shaking my head.  
"No... I... I'm..." I stammered weakly, uncertain what I was trying to say.  
“You don’t really want to come back to the mansion, do you?”  
“What about you?” I asked, bemused by the response. “He tried to kill you.”  
“We’ll be fine, Mikes, I promise.”  
“You can’t promise, Gee, he…”  
“We’re on it, Mikes. We think we know what’s going on.”  
  
I stared at him. A sad, hopeless gaze that spoke volumes about everything I was feeling.  
  
“I believe you, Mikey,” he tried to reassure me, but it felt like he was humouring me.  
“She speaks to me,” I choked out. “She told me you’re not safe.”  
  
I could see the pain in his eyes and I knew exactly what he was thinking. I could feel my eyes closing and only then did I realise that a sedative had already been added to the drip in my arm. I would soon be unconscious and my dreams would be dark and filled with unknown terrors of what might happen to my brother and friends if they went back to that place.  
  
As my eyes closed for the last time, I felt Gerard squeeze my hand and I felt an icy chill of fear.


	11. It ain't exactly what you planned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mikey realises that the answer is for him to discover

I wasn’t sure what time it was when I finally woke but I could see it was dark and despite the rest – the first decent sleep I’d had in days – I felt restless and unhappy. Of course, I knew what the problem was. How could I rest? How could I relax knowing that my brother and friends were in that house. I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to say that that house was just pure evil. Or, at the very least, pure evil permeated every inch of the place. I could have been wrong, and maybe it was just the fact that I was removed from it that allowed me some perspective, but I began to feel that the house wasn’t the problem, just Frederick, the pockmarked man. If he could be removed from the house somehow, then everything would be all right. I started thinking about it and even without realising it, I was up and getting dressed. My clothes were hanging in the wardrobe and all I’d had to do was remove the drip from the cannula in my hand. In fact, I removed the cannula too – nasty little thing kept catching on my sleeve as I pulled my shirt on. 

What was holding Frederick to the house? He worked there, but was that really enough? No. The answer was suddenly obvious to me. He had committed murder there, possibly twice. First Daisy Canfield’s car crash and then Lucy Morgan, her best friend, almost certainly drowned in the bath tub in the blue room – my room. That was it, I was absolutely so sure I couldn’t figure out why it hadn’t occurred to me before. He was there still only to prevent anyone from discovering his crimes. The body had probably never been found and when we found Lucy’s diary in the library – when we first realised that she had never made it to the police, that’s when the attacks began to get so much worse. 

“Okay.” I took a deep breath, suddenly feeling brave in my certainty. “All we need to do is find the body.”

Then in a rush I was nervous again. Partly at the idea of returning to the mansion, partly thinking about the guys still there alone but my overwhelming feeling was one of hopelessness at the enormity of the task. The Paramour Mansion itself had more than twenty rooms and the grounds were extensive. Where could we even begin to look for a body? But my mind was made up. I was going back. I was going to tell the guys what I’d realised. We were going to resolve this. Don’t ask me where my determination had suddenly come from, or even if it was going to last long enough to get me through the gates of the grounds, but right then, right there I knew what I had to do. Slipping out of the hospital room, I headed outside to look for a cab.

*

As the cab drew up to the gates of the property, I looked in and a shudder ran through me. I was terrified. Part of me wanted to stay in the cab and go straight back to the hospital, but I knew I couldn’t. Not just for the safety of the guys, but for my own sanity. I had the terrible feeling that if I didn’t face this, it would haunt me forever. But as I stepped from the car and it drove away into the dark, cloudy night, a light rain spattered down on my shoulders and I had never felt quite so alone. Walking slowly towards the mansion, I took a deep breath. It was dark but still quite early and as I looked toward the looming imposing main building, I couldn’t help but notice that none of the lights were on. My breathing hitched as I tried to suppress the potential meaning of that one simple fact. Was I too late? I started to pick up speed; my concern for Gerard and the guys outweighing my deeply held fears. I was within twenty feet of the main door when I was stopped dead in my tracks as every light in the entire building came on. I simply juddered to a halt with shock as in four of the windows I saw the silhouettes of bodies hanging from the ceiling by their necks – four of them.

“No!” I screamed, running forward.

Only then did I realise that I had no keys with me and I found myself hammering on the door. Who I thought would answer, I wasn’t sure. What I could do if I got inside, I didn’t know. Could I avoid the same fate? The door opened sharply and suddenly and I almost fell inside with it. Gasping for breath, I started to hyperventilate and found myself dropping to my knees. I needed my inhaler – what perfect timing! As I fell, I was vaguely aware that it seemed that the curtain of light that had covered me dimmed and I saw feet by my hands. 

“Mikey?”

Bob was gripping my arms now, helping me to stand. I was staring at him, out of breath and wide-eyed in my confusion.

“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you in the hospital?” he continued, but all I could do was wheeze a muffled response.   
“Mikes!” 

Gerard was coming toward me and I was crying profusely. Whatever I had seen, or thought I had, it had not been my brother and friends dead or dying with a rope around their necks. They were safe and slowly, very slowly, I began to calm my breathing. Reaching into my pocket, Gerard found my inhaler and pressed it into my hand. Taking a moment to take a couple of puffs from the blue reliever pump, I nodded, my tears finally drying. Pushing my hands across my cheeks to wipe away the rapidly cooling salt water trails, I reached out to grab Gerard and pull him close, my fingers clawing at his shirt. Close like I never had. Like it was the end of the world. As I finally released him and stood back, I could see the confusion and concern in his eyes.

“Mikey,” he began, obviously worried. “What are you doing here?”  
“The lights!” I cried, finally finding my voice. “The silhouettes… Are you all okay?”

Gerard stared at me with a pained expression. I wasn’t making sense and he was deeply concerned. Clearly it had been some sort of illusion to scare me and it had worked. But safe in the knowledge that the guys and Gerard in particular were well, I somehow managed to pull myself together. There was only one thing left to say.

“I know what to do,” I nodded; I was absolutely convinced. “I know what to do, but I need your help.”

*

Ray and Frank joined us on hearing the commotion and even though I had accepted that the image I had seen was merely an illusion, I was relieved to see them. As they arrived, Gerard’s cell phone rang. Plucking it from his pocket, he sighed, knowing instantly who it must be.

“I know,” he said after a short pause. “He’s here. He’s just arrived.” Another pause. “Yes, I know… I will. Thank you.”

Shutting off the phone, Gerard cocked his head and stared expectantly at me.

“I had to, Gee,” I shrugged. “He’s coming after you now. I couldn’t leave you here.”  
“And what would you have done if we’d decided to stay somewhere else tonight? You’d have been here alone.”  
“I didn’t think about that,” I admitted. “But you didn’t, did you?”  
“Well…” Ray heaved a sigh.  
“We were thinking about it,” Frank added. “Taking you to the hospital… Getting out of this place, it really brought it home how oppressive the place is.”   
“I don’t think any of us wanted to admit it, but it’s really getting to all of us,” Gerard added.  
“I think I know how to stop it,” I answered, finding strength in my conviction.

I stepped through the door and took a deep breath as instantly that same feeling, that terrible feeling of close, suffocating hatred and despair settled on my shoulders. I don’t know what came over me. I was on edge certainly but perhaps I was defiant, but more likely I was just exhausted, frustrated and I had again tasted what it felt like to be free of those feelings. 

What did I do? I snapped.

“I’m not frightened of you any more!” I yelled to the ceiling. 

Of course I was and I grew rapidly terrified as all the lights in the mansion flickered on and off rapidly. At the same time – and don’t ask me how this was even possible – every take of every track we had recorded so far, blared out of the P.A. Several paintings on the walls began to rattle against the wall before swinging side to side so violently that two fell from their hooks, one breaking the frame as it hit the floor with a terrible crash. A loud, howling wind swirled through the lobby and ahead of me on the staircase a black shape was forming. 

As I stared I felt as though I had conjured up this thing, whatever it was. I didn’t need to guess, I knew deep down it would be Frederick. He was getting desperate, I realised that now. He had tried to scare us – it hadn’t worked. Now he was trying to kill us and it was only then I realised the danger we were all in. What would he do? He had already tried to drown me and strangle Gerard, but was there more in store?

He was fully formed, almost solid, with only the slightest hint of the stairs visible behind him. He was grinning at me, sometimes through me. It was unnerving and I was having the worst time not giving in to my fear. I was still the weakest link in the chain; he knew it and he was playing on it. Only when Gerard drew alongside me did I feel the slightest comfort. Ray, Bob and Frank joined us and he started laughing as he slowly descended the stairs. At first I was frozen to the spot. We were there, but what could we do? I believed I knew what, but how? Taking a tentative step forward, I felt Gee’s hand on my arm, but I pulled free as I took another step. Taking a deep breath, I gathered my strength.

“We know it was you!” I shouted. “You killed Daisy because she didn’t love you and you killed Lucy because she found out! You’re a murderer and you haunt this place to hide your crimes, but we know!” I was screaming now. “We know and we’re going to make sure everybody knows!”  
“You think so?” he cackled. “The last time someone threatened me… Well, I think you know,” he laughed again, confirming our thoughts.  
“You won’t stop us,” I continued. “You’ll…”  
“Aren’t you forgetting something?” he asked, drawing a ghostly blade from a sheath at his hip. “You have no proof.”  
“We… We have the diary,” I stammered, hardly expecting a coherent argument from him.  
“But you have no body and you’re never going to find it. Not in grounds this extensive,” he laughed again. “What are you going to do? Dig up every inch? Tear up every floorboard?”

And that was when it hit me. I knew exactly where she was, or at least the area where she lay. It should have been obvious. She had been protecting me and I had felt that protection. And right up until he had violated that protection, I had felt safe. Besides, it made perfect sense – he had found her diary in the library. The night of the funeral he had killed her, hidden the body and then the diary. Both had to be in the same place, the place where I had felt all her protection.

“She’s in the library. You drowned her, dragged her there and hid the body. She’s still there, isn’t she?”

He had no response. He just stared. He looked angry, ready to kill again.

“You will never tell a soul!”

Launching himself from half way down the staircase, he seemed to grow in size as he flew towards us. Faltering backwards a few steps, I was too terrified to run. I felt Gerard’s hands on my arms as he tried to drag me away, but I was frozen, gaping up as he flew in circles around us. It was too late to run. He became just a blur of black as he circled us ever faster with a wind howling all around. Paintings fell and rattled, the rugs whipped up, tables and chairs skidded across the lobby, crashing into us sending us careering across the floor.

“Mikey!”

It was Gerard who shouted, but as I looked up all I could see was Frederick standing over me, still brandishing his knife.


	12. I'm just a ghost, so I can't hurt you anymore

As he leaned over me, I was petrified, frozen to the spot, simply lying there unable to even scramble backwards. I could hear the guys shouting; the words weren’t clear, but somehow I knew that they couldn’t reach me. But they didn’t need to. Deep down I knew what needed to be done, but how and more importantly – where? I had long since realised that we had to find Lucy’s body and I believed it would be somewhere in the library. But where? Where could you possibly hide a body anywhere in that room where it wouldn’t be discovered either by someone stumbling across it or from the smell as it decomposed? And then, as he leaned over me brandishing the knife menacingly, it came to me.

“The grate!” I yelled as loud as I could. “The fire grate in the library! Gee! You have to…”

I stopped dead as the whole house seemed to shudder violently followed by an ear-splitting cracking sound. Frederick stumbled back away from me. He seemed shocked and disorientated and for the first time I began to feel that he was afraid of me. After so long being the other way around, I could scarcely believe it. 

I realised within moments that I wasn’t the source of his fear. It was almost as if he couldn’t see me any more and I realised that finally I could move again. Looking to my right as a shadow crossed over me, I saw it was Gerard, come to my side to help me up. As the guys gathered around we watched as another shape formed in the lobby. It was smaller than Frederick, slight and as it took shape, clearly female.

“So, Frederick,” the ghostly voice echoed around the room. “After all these years, your watch is nearly at an end. You know what happens now, don’t you?”  
“You can’t do a thing to me!” he screamed in reply, swinging the knife back and forth as she approached.

It was the woman who had appeared to me so often, either in dreams or in person but instead of being soaking wet and dressed in some sort of nightdress, she was smartly dressed in a blue suit with matching accessories as if going out for the day. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that this was Lucy Morgan. He had killed her, but now – well now, I felt revenge was on the cards.

The smile of deep satisfaction on her face spoke volumes. If she had been afraid of this man in life as her diary suggested, she was no more. She had the look of someone who held all the cards and slowly, as more shapes began to form, it became apparent that that was exactly the case.

“I don’t need to do anything, Frederick,” she smiled. 

It was almost a sweet smile, but her eyes gave away the bitterness that wanted… I was going to say revenge, but as the shapes began to take form, I realised that the word I was really searching for was justice.

“You!” he pointed directly at me, he sounded terrified, his voice trembling, his hand shaking. “You can stop this!”

My eyes widened in pure shock, wondering what he was going to do next and what he was so afraid of. I had no idea what it was he wanted me to do, but I felt certain that unless he could somehow force me, I wasn’t going to do it.

“What do you want me to do?” 

Don’t even ask me why I said that!

“He’s not doing anything for you!” Gerard yelled protectively. “Whatever you’re so afraid of, whatever’s going to happen, you deserve it all!”  
“No! You don’t understand! They made me do it. I had to!” he pleaded. “It’s not my fault.”  
“Who made you do it?” I asked.

Surely he couldn’t mean Daisy and Lucy? Did he mean the family? It seemed so unlikely. Looking through Lucy’s diary had made it very plain that the only person she was scared of was this man and rightly so. It was his reply that surprised me more than anything.

“It was the shadows,” he mumbled, looking around sharply as if afraid to be overheard. “They’re everywhere.”

I heard Bob snort his derision at the announcement, but my blood ran cold. There had been all too many occasions when I had been certain that several of the shadows I had seen had been just that little bit too dark, too solid, too real. Had I seen something he could see? Was I…? No, I refused to even think it. I wasn’t affected like him. Or was I? Had I tried to strangle Gerard? I had to know! Even as I turned, Gerard could see the alarm in my eyes and he was already nodding, reassuring me that everything was all right. I had no idea if he knew what I was thinking or worried about but he was putting me at ease in a situation where terror could so easily have taken hold.

“You know, don’t you!” Frederick cried, reaching out to me without moving from the spot. “You’ve seen them! You’ve seen them! They’re calling to you too!”

An ice chill ran down my spine and Ray placed a hand gently on my shoulder. Glancing around I saw him staring at me with questioning eyes.

“I see them but that’s all,” I whispered, choked by the admission.   
“They won’t stop there! Please! You can stop this!” he begged again.  
“What’s going to happen?” I asked, as I suddenly noticed that he seemed rooted to the spot.  
“It’s already happening,” Lucy smiled with deep satisfaction. “See his feet?”

I looked down and noticed that Frederick’s feet seemed to be covered in something black that clung like tar. It was a deep, solid black like a complete absence of light. It moulded itself around his ankles with only the slightest outline remaining. I wanted to say that it appeared like someone had wrapped a cloth around his feet, but it was more than that, there were no folds, no discernible shape or form, just utter and complete blackness. It seemed somehow unnatural and, of course, I realised that that was exactly what it was. I watched with horror as the blackness collapsed and spread across the floor, with Frederick sinking the few inches with it. The shadows had… I was searching for the right word in my mind and with a surprising amount of distaste for the idea, the best I could manage was that they had absorbed his feet. He seemed now to exist only from the ankles up but he was held securely in place. As I continued to stare, I saw the blackness creeping slowly up towards his knees.

“You can stop this!” he screamed. “Please! They’ll listen to you! You’re next!”  
“What’s he talking about?” Frank asked, concerned. “Stop what? Who is he talking about?”  
“You can’t see it?” I asked, horrified as I realised I might be the only one who could see what was happening.  
“See what?” Frank asked, puzzled by my response, only making me feel worse.  
“What are you seeing, Mikes?” Ray asked in as calm a tone as he could manage.

I turned, frantically looking from one to the other. All of them were aiming questioning eyes at me and I realised I was the only one who could see them. I heard him scream as he collapsed to his waist, the shadows spreading out still further. Gasping in horror I realised that one branch of the oozing blackness was slowly heading in my direction.

“Michael,” Lucy began thoughtfully, “if your friends cannot see the shadows then I suspect Frederick may be right. You must not stay here.”  
“But the recording? I have to…?”  
“Please, help me!” Frederick begged. Despite everything he’d done, it was soul destroying to hear him.  
“You’re worried about the recording?” Gerard turned a concerned glance to me. Perhaps he thought it an odd thing to say while a man was effectively dissolving in front of us, but I was simply replying to Lucy.  
“You may work here during the day, but you must not be alone, nor must you spend the night.”  
“Don’t worry, I wasn’t planning on! But what about the guys?”  
“Who are you talking to, Mikes?” 

It was Ray who asked the unexpected question with a puzzled stare creasing his face. My head was beginning to spin with Frederick, Lucy and the guys all trying to speak to me at once. It only began to spin more when I realised that Gerard and the guys couldn’t see half of what I could see.

“Lucy,” I replied incredulously. “Can’t you see her?”

Before they even had chance to reply, the shadows enveloped Frederick completely with little more from him than a final resigned sob. Within seconds the entire block of thick almost viscous mass of shadows slipped silently to the floor, spreading out still further. Some faded almost instantly while some seemed to change direction and began to slowly ooze or slither in my direction.

“Where did he go?” Frank cried in surprise as, I assume, Frederick seemed to him to simply and suddenly disappear.  
“It’s late, Michael.” Lucy stepped towards me. “You need to leave here. You can return in the morning if you wish.”  
“What about your body?” I asked quietly, still stunned by events.  
“You can actually see Lucy? You’re talking to her?” Bob added – I was really starting to lose track.  
“You know where I am, you can deal with it when you’re rested and well. But, Michael, this must remain a secret.”  
“Why?” I asked, confused by the request.  
“This is my friend’s home. It’s had many uses over the years, but there remains a quiet dignity to it.”  
“What about the shadows?” I asked tentatively.  
“I’m not certain if they caused Frederick’s insanity or were born out of it, but they are here and they are dangerous. Now he’s gone, eventually they will go, I’m sure, but not if the place fills with tourists and investigators. They’ll feed off their curiosity and this house needs time to cleanse itself.”  
“A quiet, private burial?” I asked, happy when she smiled and nodded in return.   
“Thank you,” she replied. “But they’re getting closer,” she added. As I looked down, I could see that the stretch of shadow was now only about a foot away from me. “You must leave, for your own safety.”  
“What about Gerard and the guys?” I asked, determined that I wasn’t leaving them if it were remotely unsafe.  
“They are quite safe, they will even find that the gloom and oppression has lifted. I feel your sessions will be much more productive now.”  
“Thank you,” I nodded. “And… I’m sorry he killed you.”

She smiled wistfully at me.

“At least he didn’t manage to kill you or your friends. Now, go, you will be safe away from here tonight.”

Even as I stared she faded slowly and I knew I wouldn’t see her again; finally, she was at peace. Taking a deep breath, I turned to Gerard.

“It’s over and he’s gone, but I need to get out of here right now.”  
“You’re seeing things we’re not?” Gerard asked, but it was phrased almost like a statement.  
“Yes, but I’m not crazy, I just see them, that’s all.”

Gerard nodded. I’ll give him credit, he accepted it without question. Perhaps he had simply seen too many strange things to need to wonder if it was true. We all had, but I knew as we turned to leave that my experiences had changed me. I was different certainly, stronger perhaps. I felt as if I had aged several years overnight and it gave me a confidence I never knew I had. Can I say I was glad of the experience for the strength it gave me? Probably not but at least I was able to take something positive from it. That and the simple gratitude that we were all still alive and well. 

I will never forget it, and, not least for the promise I made to Lucy, neither will I ever discuss it.

 

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, thanks to everyone who read this and commented! Hope you enjoyed it. Sas x


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